What is a tomato?

As I was walking with Lila this morning I was having an interesting conversation with myself. We were talking about what art is to us, so to speak. I was saying the paintings are not “me”; they have a life of their own. And, thinking about Sue’s comment about not throwing out my old journals (journals that are too embarrassing now to want anyone to read them) my paintings have been way ahead of me in every way: intellectually, emotionally, physically. They have taught me how to be a stronger person. Their insistent boldness is my teacher.

The other day my gallery owner in Toronto said someone had asked how I had named a series of paintings: Tomatoes (or to Tell the Truth). The name comes from a poem I wrote about thirty years ago. It’s a musing on what it feels like to be a Sagittarius. A sign that is always concerned with truth and seeking. I sent her a copy but as I was reading it, I realized how I would have written it differently now. I thought I might have said “sometimes the day to day realities are too boring to record” instead of “petty”. But then I thought, I’m never bored. There is always something around of interest, whether in my mind or in the environment. Maybe I am sometimes restless and impatient, a truly Sagittarius trait, but that doesn’t last long.

So, since my journals are in the recycle bin, here’s a bit of the past:

TOMATOES (OR TO TELL THE TRUTH)

Part I

There was a cockroach in the mailbox this morning.
Actually there were two. One was lying on its back
dead, feet up, in apparent bliss. Is peace quiet or
fullness or something else.

Art is the worship of beauty.
As Aristophenes says: Worship god first
and then do was you damn please.

Sometimes the day to day realities seem too petty
even to record. There was a time when I felt I could be
writing masterpieces of poetry and prose if only
I had my typewriter set up.

And my god is beauty and truth.
But I don’t believe in god.
Just the worship.
And I am not afraid tonight.

Help me please to have the patience
to wait for to get to where I am going.
All is upheaving along the way.
One must be prepared.

Part II

I pray for protection and guidance in my search for my sneakers which I left somewhere in my hurry saying later I will attend to their order but now when the urgency of my need to move is upon me and my thoughts are in piles scattered around my life as I pass by, I see that it is faith that keeps my house together. Faith in the ultimate truth that will unveil my shoes if I really need them.

Part III

I am concerned with big, bigness, size, vastness, space, big spaces, big ideas, big moments, monumental art, large parties, big houses. Monumental, oneness, wholeness, vast reaches; impatience: I want it now. And do you ever realize young (old) man (boy, dog, horse) that I am sizing up your being as you stand or walk before me. Yet it was only when confronted with the endless quivering muscles of hind shanks of horses in the Royal Mews of London that I could understand my newly pubescent daughter’s fascination for the animal who only eats and runs,
her citing endless statistics and correctly
picking winners in every race by the sturdiness
of their shanks,
and my knowing that when you touch
me there, I feel the quivering
as if I were
a horse’s thigh.

Part IV

Since the race is over once it is begun, I can grasp and eat the carrot and
worry about the details later.

Details like stars in my hair and mud in my shoes.

.

Posted by leya at September 14, 2007 03:03 PM | TrackBack